


you used to say

by biohazardgirl (haemophilus)



Series: Transcendental Youth [10]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Mac and Charlie Die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 05:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14301456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haemophilus/pseuds/biohazardgirl
Summary: Going off the grid is easier the second time around.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Larkin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larkin/gifts).
  * Inspired by [take care of this monster](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13801380) by [whatsupbitches (Larkin)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Larkin/pseuds/whatsupbitches). 



> Sooooooo this was going to be a companion piece to 'Take Care of This Monster' by whatsupbitches(Larkin) but it wasn't working out. So, this is just a collection of ficlets about Mac and Charlie Die in the Transcendental Youth 'verse. Hope you like it!

The meeting room in the prison is cold and dark as ever in the week before his dad’s trial. His dad is guided into the room by a beefy guard and sits down slowly. The guard walks away and shuts the door behind him. They are alone except for the cameras and his dad’s piercing blue eyes.

“Hey, dad,” says Mac. His voice always becomes more high-pitched around his dad, as though he’s ten years old again and asking him to play catch. Luther isn’t impressed; he leans back in his chair with the cold-blooded slide of a snake.

“What do you want?”

Mac folds his hands on the table and squeezes his palms together. Tap, tap goes his dad’s foot. He doesn’t blink as Mac tries to remember his lines.

“Charlie, since my dad is way more likely to forgive _me_ , you should probably go first.”

Charlie gives him a confused look. “Why is he more likely to forgive _you_?”

“Cos I’m his son and he loves me,” says Mac. “Right dad?”

Luther sighs. He folds his arms, deliberate and slow.

“Look, I appreciate the apology. But I don’t forgive either of you.”

Mac’s heart revs into overdrive. _Fuck_.

“You don’t forgive me?”

“No,” says Luther dispassionately.

The urge to throttle his dad, to make him _feel something_ , suddenly pulses through Mac’s muscles. He clenches his fingers – one, two – and looks at the cameras. Mac has too many priors and too little cash to afford assault charges. Plan B bubbles up in his throat.

“Oh yeah, dad? Not going to accept our apology? Okay, fine. Plan B, bitch. We’re going to bury you.”


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie’s pacing and rambling about hoboes. He’s grabbing a bandana – we’re going to look like _assholes_ – as if they can run anywhere Mac’s dad won’t find them. In the heat of the moment, he doesn’t remember that they’ve done this before.

(“I’m cold,” Charlie says with his arms wrapped around himself. Mac’s fingers hurt. All of the stores are closed for Thanksgiving. So far, nobody has been generous enough to let two dirty twenty-year-olds into their home. Assholes.

They should have drifted far away from Philadelphia in the fall. Florida, maybe, or Hawaii. Hop on a plane and just go anywhere but here.

Goddamn Charlie and his goddamn fear of leaving Philly.)

“The only way that my dad is not going to kill us is if he thinks we’re already dead,” says Mac.

“Oh, great. I was hoping you’d say that. Great, let’s kill ourselves,” says Charlie.

Leave it to Charlie to not let him finish. He resists the urge to bury his face in his palms as Charlie talks about stabbing him – which is, in Charlie’s mind, apparently better than Mac’s dad killing him.

“I was going to say we fake our own death, and then he thinks we’re dead and he leaves us alone.”

They’re going to go down in a blaze of glory.


	3. Chapter 3

Charlie’s teeth clatter as Mac dumps them from his pocket into the backseat. The will is in place, and the video is done. All that’s left is for Charlie to get in the car with him and crash it for realism’s sake. His heart is pounding with excitement at how badass they’re going to look as they jump out of the car together.

He’s chugged a few beers and huffed some glue in exchange for an inability to find any sort of protective equipment at the corner store. His body is loose and malleable, ready to fold on impact with the street. Charlie’s not sober either, but apparently it has nothing to do with protection from bodily harm.

“It’s gonna be great without me. Alright, buddy. Good luck.”

Mac gives him an ugly look as he says, “Pussy.”

Then the car is going rollercoaster fast towards a brick wall. The speedometer fades away – no, everything does. There’s a sense of impending doom, of slow-motion destruction, and a single memory – fuck, maybe it’s not death if it’s just one – flashes through his mind.

(“You gotta stop carjacking when you’re high on meth, dude” says Charlie. He puts a sock up to his nose and breathes deeply. His mouth and nose are always stained silver nowadays.

“Why?” says Mac. “My driving is fine.”

“Dude, you almost crash into shit like every day,” says Charlie.

“Jesus, man. Have a little faith,” says Mac. He takes the sock from Charlie, and huffs from it. When he’s finished, he coughs out, “We got God on our side.”)

The crash ripples through Mac’s entire body. His ears and nose clog and then drain. Everything goes blurry, and his neck aches. Distantly, he hears screaming. Then, he’s pulled out of the car. Charlie is yelling nonsense and asking questions he can barely answer. Mac’s flickering in and out of consciousness. The hands guiding him away are warm.


	4. Chapter 4

The pawn shop is filled with colors and lights and Mac has never been here before except for when he has. There’s something solid settling in his gut as he zones in and out of whatever Charlie is saying. He feels a strange kinship with the loss of the passage of time.  

There are watches hanging on the wall. He wonders hazily if Charlie will nag him to buy one.

“Bro, like, I say something, and then you, like, forget it two seconds later, okay? Are you sure you're all right?”

(“Are you alright, man?” says Charlie. “You’re acting really weird.”

His tongue is thick and tastes like puke.

“I feel like –”)

“One million dollars.”

“Alright, well, you don’t seem like. . .”

He doesn’t hear the rest. There’s a wedding dress on a mannequin towards the front of the store. Somewhere, there’s a bride with a broken family.

Maybe her son is running away from his dad too.

“Look at that wedding dress, dude,” he says. “That’s sad.”

“askfjsadf grenade alsdfjsdf money asdlfjsdf guns aksfasdflkjasdf no wedding dress alasdjfs”

They buy the wedding dress. It’s heavy and hot on his body. When the poppers bring him back to himself, he can’t remember why they bought it in the first place.

“That’s completely crazy, man.”

Into the dumpster it goes without a second thought.


End file.
